I got to work today, did my normal eye-opening routine of checking the twenty-odd e-mails waiting for me, refreshing the project's source, and getting started on my trivial tasks, when the wife called to remind me that I had to have the girl-child to a mid-morning appointment.

My office is almost an hour away from my home, as the traffic flows. It's not even twenty-miles as one might be able to draw a line on a map, but since all but the last half-mile on either end are freeway, that means frequent stopping in heavy traffic.

I jumped back into my truck and tore tires toward home to get the forms she'd need to bring with her, and then off to the school to get her. I'd driven my truck this morning as I thought I'd want the comfort of the ride over the fun and carefree of the motorcycle ride.

Today is one of those Minnesota fall days that curses you as soon as you leave the house. It was a little cold; well, cold if you're not surrounded by metal and glass as you cut along at 40-50MPH. It's that fall damp cold that makes you put on a jacket at 60, not that mid-summer cold 60 where you might consider a longer-sleeved, but still light-weight shirt, and certainly not that freaking hot 60 we get in the spring when you bust out the shorts and tee-shirts. I wimped. I still ache from Saturday...

I get the girl child, who's almost happy to be missing English class. We go, do her appointment, grab a bite of lunch, having a nice chat, and back to class for her. I had been mentally arguing and decided to bust out the two-wheeler after all. The temperature had crept to a balmy 58 in the few hours since I'd originally left home. Since I was so close, I grabbed my leather jacket and hopped on.

Now I'm here, with little to do, and I'm feeling much better about my vehicular choice for the day.

Now to find something to do...